My family is originally from Ohio, and my grandfather and aunt still live there. Recently, my grandpa (here on out known as Ed) has been having some health issues. Complications from Congestive Heart Failure. My mom, bearing the guilt that only the oldest child can bear (I know this, b/c I am the oldest as well obvs...), decided she needed to go out there to help take care of all the things having an elder parents entails. I am glad she did. It was touch and go there for awhile, and I was ready to drive out myself. Ed is such a big, strong man, that we don't see him going anywhere anytime soon, despite his 90 years of age.
While she stays there helping out my aunt, I have been left the house to care for. This is good for many reasons: I feel like an actual 27 y/o having my own place, I don't have to unload the dishwasher the minute I get home from work, and no one nags me to wipe out the sink after I brush my teeth. There is a whole bunch of awesomeness to this living alone situation, but there is one big problem: I hate being alone. At night, specifically. And so, I won't. Enter Dave :)
Dave and I are now splitting our time between my house and his. 3 days here. 4 days there. Or 2 days here and 4 days there and 1 day here. However it ends up. It's a pain in the ass, packing bags, and lugging groceries back and forth (yes, we do), and not to mention Georgie's stuff!
And I kind-of like it. Granted, there was a moment last night where we were ready to sleep in separate rooms, if not separate houses...but I'm thinking of it all as a preview for what's ahead. And overall, we make it work. With the stress of the back and forth. So cheers to that!
Talk to me in two weeks. I hope I'm as satisfied and positive about this whole situation as I am today. I have a sneaking suspicion I will be :)